Wacousta : a tale of the Pontiac conspiracy (Complete) eBook

seen fierce warriors, reclining triumphantly and indolently
on their rifles, while others were occupied in securing
the arms of their captives with leathern thongs behind
their backs. The silence that now prevailed was
strongly in contrast with, and even more fearful than,
the horrid shouts by which it had been preceded; and,
but for the ghastly countenances of the captives,
and the quick rolling eyes of the savages, Miss de
Haldimar might have imagined herself the sport of
some extraordinary and exciting illusion. Her
glance over these prominent features in the tragedy
had been cursory, yet accurate. It now rested
on one that had more immediate and terrifying interest
for herself. At a few paces in front of the companion
ladder, and with their backs turned towards her, stood
two individuals, whose attitudes denoted the purpose
of men resolved to sell with their lives alone a passage
to a tall fierce-looking savage, whose countenance
betrayed every mark of triumphant and deadly passion,
while he apparently hesitated whether his uplifted
arm should stay the weapon it wielded. These
individuals were Captain de Haldimar and Sir Everard
Valletort; and to the former of these the attention
of the savage was more immediately and exultingly
directed; so much so, indeed, that Miss de Haldimar
thought she could read in the ferocious expression
of his features the death-warrant of her cousin.
In the wild terror of the moment she gave a piercing
scream that was answered by a hundred yelling voices,
and rushing between her lover and his enemy, threw
herself wildly and supplicatingly at the feet of the
latter. Uttering a savage laugh, the monster
spurned her from him with his foot, when, quick as
thought, a pistol was discharged within a few inches
of his face; but with a rapidity equal to that of his
assailant, he bent aside his head, and the ball passed
harmlessly on. The yell that followed was terrific;
and while it was yet swelling into fulness, Captain
de Haldimar felt an iron hand furiously grappling
his throat, and, ere the grasp was relinquished, he
again stood the bound and passive victim of the warrior
of the Fleur de lis.

CHAPTER III.

The interval that succeeded to the last council-scene
of the Indians was passed by the officers of Detroit
in a state of inexpressible anxiety and doubt.
The fears entertained for the fate of their companions,
who had set out in the perilous and almost forlorn
hope of reaching Michilimackinac, in time to prevent
the consummation of the threatened treachery, had,
in some degree, if not wholly, been allayed by the
story narrated by the Ottawa chief. It was evident,
from his statement, the party had again met, and been
engaged in fearful struggle with the gigantic warrior
they had all so much reason to recollect; and it was
equally apparent, that in that struggle they had been
successful. But still, so many obstacles were
likely to be opposed to their navigation of the several